


Thistle & Weeds

by TheAngryKimchi



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Graphic Description, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Sibling Incest, Thor finds a way, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngryKimchi/pseuds/TheAngryKimchi
Summary: Thor takes a last look around; to the family he has come to know and love, whom he has now lost – earlier than he thought he would. They all lie there, lifeless and unmoving. Stern-faced. Fallen in the greatest way warriors such as them should meet their ends. He will meet them again soon for Valhalla awaits them all to secure in her golden embrace.His eye flicks back to their murderer and thereheis, shimmering just behind the Titan’s right shoulder – his brother, smiling and looking at Thor with acceptance in his brilliant eyes, waiting to take Thor’s soul and lead him there.Or such Thor has believed.





	Thistle & Weeds

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this sitting in my files since the day before the premiere when, in a meaningless attempt to sleep, I was filled with anxiousness and possibilities, and started thinking how I would have liked Endgame to unveil.
> 
> The movie wasn't half of what I had expected but it still got me sitting on the edge of my seat for three hours and this little story has been patiently waiting since then to someday be posted.
> 
> Title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_YJhmGKTxk) of Mumford & Sons because it was what I was listening on repeat those days and for the duration of writing this.
> 
> Enjoy!

Smoke fogs the air. A suffocating breeze that travels the stench of blood, urine and sweat mixed with the sickly sweet smell of blossoming flowers and grass. It has seeped in every nook and cranny, blemished what had been a lovely and peaceful prairie some hours ago. What once was beautiful is now tinted with the smell of death, permeating everywhere and everything around. Bodies litter the ground. Unmoving forms that once were filled with breath and fight. On some, their eyes are still half-open in a multitude of lifeless colours staring right back at Thor who’s kneeling on the dirt and grime, dragged and disposed right in the middle of the battlefield.

Thor stands defeated and disgraced. He's the last one still alive and he’s got nothing more to give. Depleted and exhausted, his form slumped; each breath aching as it fills hurting lungs that press onto fractured ribs. His left arm lies decapitated with half of his bicep somewhere on the field; blood from the gaping wound drips in a sluggish pace down onto his torn armour and the ground to paint the grass alongside his comrades’ while Stormbreaker lays abandoned a few feet away from him, turned into a twig that had been easily snapped between the Titan’s thick fingers, as if it mattered nothing. As if it didn’t hold the power of a desperate God or that of a dying star.

The sun's obscured by clouds that are not of his calling – he’s got no strength left to summon the thunder in his aid. He feels dizzy – the mechanical eye has stopped working sometime in the middle of battle and he’s lost immeasurable amounts of blood. He has been fighting for hours at his friends’ side, but in the end, even this wasn’t enough.

“Isn’t it a pity?” Comes the voice, heavy and conceited, laced with the sickly humbleness of someone that wants to play in the role of martyr. “So many souls that the Universe Itself chose as worthy of living and you throw it all away –  _ for this _ ?” The inconsiderate bastard says and, if Thor could, he’d run his fists through his skull ‘till nothing else remained. “A futile attempt to do- what? Bring all that you think you’ve lost back?”

In spite of himself, Thor cracks a smile – hallucinations are starting to play their cruel game on his mind. He hears a chuckle; teasing and airy, familiar and missed. Maddeningly missed.

“Can’t you see how fickle you all are? Tiny people in possession of even smaller brains; minds that cannot grasp the sheer magnificence of a world reborn of your mistakes!” Thanos continues. On and on with his incessant diatribe. Thor slides his head back on his shoulders, uncoordinated and lethargic, meeting his wretched eyes.

“Spare me of your melodrama and finish the job.” He spits on the Titan’s feet, barely holding himself upright anymore. “You think yourself above all, but there will come a day you will pay for all you’ve done. And it will be as cruel and painful as the pain  _ you _ have caused.”

A disgusted grimace morphs Thanos’ lips and, in the next breath, he throws out a hand to grab Thor by the neck. He lifts him off the ground, off his buckling feet, and holds him in the air in a reminiscence of what he had done to Loki. The gold of the Gauntlet is cold against Thor’s feverish skin, tight its grip on his neck, but Thor doesn’t thrash in its clasp. He’s got no energy left for it; he can feel the last of his life slipping slowly away. Similar to the breath trying to bully its way in and out of his lungs.

“You insolent pawn! How can’t  _ you _ , out of all, see the greatest scheme of things? Spoiled little brat!”

Thor takes a last look around; to the family he has come to know and love, whom he has now lost – earlier than he thought he would. They all lie there, lifeless and unmoving. Stern-faced. Fallen in the greatest way warriors such as them should meet their ends. He will meet them again soon, for Valhalla awaits them all to secure in her golden embrace.

His eye flicks back to their murderer and there  _ he _ is, shimmering just behind the Titan’s right shoulder – his brother, smiling and looking at Thor with acceptance in his brilliant eyes, waiting to take Thor’s soul and lead him there.

Or such Thor has believed.

Loki’s lips move, forming words that travel inside Thor’s brain and put an undeniable spark in his will.

_ It isn’t time yet, brother. Clouds still darken our sky. _

Thor’s mind engages abruptly, jerking out of the lazy tempo it had been working on. His remaining hand comes to grab on the Gauntlet as Thanos continues on with his tirade of a nicer future, of grandeurs long past that have the chance to return now that  _ he  _ sacrificed everything and Thor feels the need to throw up at how disgusting this guy’s hero complex is. An egomaniac in all his glory.

“You- should be-” he chokes, trying to remember the right place for each of the Infinity Stones on the Gauntlet, “very proud of yourself.”

He rubs his hand over each one of them, feeling their power burning his skin with every caress; Soul, Reality, Space, Power, Mind, and there, on the thumb, Thor’s target; the Time Stone.

“Truly, I am. I’ve managed to see my ultimate plans come to fruition.” Thanos says, self-centered and boastful as ever, ugly purple lips stretching in a grin that shows each one of his yellow teeth.

“Oh, no, no.” Thor shakes his head as much as he can, trying to borrow time, to replenish even a speck of his power as he holds carefully the inside of his wrist pressed onto the Power Stone and grips tight on the Time Stone. “This isn’t the only thing you should be proud of.”

“I thought this would be enough!” Thanos scoffs. “But do enlighten me, puny Prince.”

The grip on Thor’s neck relaxes a little to allow him easier speech and Thor chuckles breathily,blinks his eye to the transparent form of his brother he can still see behind the Titan. “ _King_.” He corrects. “I mean- all of that has been a great feat to achieve – not an honorable one, but still – you know – _a feat_. What really is astounding, though, is that your _ego_ _has the size of a_ _planet_. Perhaps you should consider colonizing it.”

Thanos’ eyes narrow, lips pulling down in a frown as his fingers start tightening again, but Thor can now feel it – that tiny spark in the pit of his gut.

He glances at Loki’s illusion and sees him smiling. Proud. Satisfied.

So he calls all of his remaining strength, everything he’s got and some he didn’t know he could ever possess as he snaps his gaze back to Thanos’. “Next time, ego alone won’t be enough,” he hisses and calls the thunder and lightning. Fingers pulling on the Time Stone, inducing electricity in its core. Thankfully, it’s enough to pop it from the socket and right into Thor’s awaiting palm. Thanos’ shock is so great he has to let go of Thor who slumps helplessly on the ground and jump a quick step back to get away from the skies raining their fury down on him.

“You fool! You will never succeed! No matter what you do!” Thanos has to scream to be heard over the sound of hail the size of fists that falls from the sky, tries to turn it into bubbles, but he isn’t fast enough. “I am inevitable!”

“I shall try a million times then!”

The stone shines bright green beams through the cracks of Thor’s closed hand. It burns something fierce, but Thor has known ache worse. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now, so he shuts his eyes and thinks of a time when reality still had a chance of getting altered.

Thor slips slowly away, keeping his eyes tightly shut as the ruined prairie changes into a thousand other places, as voices dash around him. Fragments of conversations and sounds, faces and places. Some well-known and some strange still. It goes on forever and a moment more and, through it all, there is a voice that echoes clear as the most beautiful day and as strong as the wind.

It’s what he hears before he finally slips into the darkness.

_ You did well, brother. You can finally rest now. _

* * *

When he awakes he feels better than he has in a long time.

A hundred things besiege his senses; a nice, gentle breeze comes through an open window somewhere, bringing in the sounds of the birds chirping and the people going on with their daily lives; pleasantly cool sheets lay beneath him upon a mattress that is the perfect combination of soft and hard; soft pillows under his head; a light itch on the palm of his right hand and the tapping of feet on marble.

“Come on, you lazy dog. ‘Tis the big day. _ ” _

Thor smiles. Slow and indolent. Still in this half-asleep state where his brain still hasn’t caught up and his body is relaxed and warm.

“Thor, get up! You’ve been sleeping for forever!”

His eyes open slowly when he feels gentle hands brushing through his hair. Hair that’s longer and untangled, cleaner than it was a while ago.

It takes him a heart-stopping beat to realise that he is lying face-down on  _ his  _ bed, head turned towards  _ his  _ balcony,  _ inside his private chambers, on Asgard! _

Thor jerks on the bed, lifting himself on his elbows. He sees Loki then, bent over his bed, smiling this long-suffering smirk of his, full of impatience and almost perfectly concealed ire, and Thor feels like Loki has just punched him in the chest.

_ Is this a dream?  _ He thinks, frantic, and takes a quick look around. The heavy velvet red curtains are pulled so the sunlight can illuminate the room and everything is just how he remembers always having it; the small nook for late night reading with his favourite wingback chair and footstool at the corner by the balcony doors where he could easily watch the stars from; the vanity on the opposite side by the door leading to his private bathroom, messy with brushes and razors, leather hair-ties and ribbons; the open doors to his dressing room with his clothes spilling out of closets and drawers that Loki had always complained about; Mjolnir lying on its pedestal. 

Loki’s fingers travel down the muscles of Thor’s back, tickling almost in their light caress and, as much as Thor wants to stay here forever and cherish this long-missed peaceful moment, he has to get some answers for if this is a dream, it’s a very cruel one. So he turns around and slides up on his forearms, staring at Loki’s everything like a heathen who’s just found the face of God _. _

Loki’s eyebrows do a little inquiring dance, lips settling into a slight frown that calls for Thor’s desperation to kiss away. Loki’s still in his night pants, hair a little ruffled, bright red and blue marks cover his neckline and chest like one of his precious torcs. His skin looks so healthy it shines under the light’s graze. He’s brilliant, beautiful like an angel of small death. Thor cannot take his gaze from him.

“Am I dreaming?” Thor rasps, putting his weight on an elbow, reaching with his other hand – his left one, the one the Titan had cut off – to brush away a stray strand of raven hair. Loki looks so young; as if he hasn’t yet lived through the Hel of the last years.

“Starting off with your corny one-liners so early in the day? Spare me the embarrassment, please.” Loki scoffs and rolls his eyes at him and- and Thor has missed him so much he wants to weep.

His brother clicks his tongue and moves to get up from the bed – get away from Thor. A panic strong as the waves of the sea crashing against rocks washes over Thor who jerks out his hand and holds tightly on Loki’s bicep.

“ _ Please, _ ” he begs, “tell me this isn’t a dream.”

Loki stares at him, green eyes questioning and searching as he studies Thor’s face. After what feels like an eternity, Loki relaxes in Thor’s grasp and tugs gently his hand for Thor’s palm to fall down over his own where Loki turns their hands so he can thread his long fingers through his. He braces a knee on the mattress, sling the other over Thor’s hips as he leans in for a kiss that feels as if it breathes life in lungs that ache as though they had been empty and constricting for too long.

Somehow, in the way he has always done, Loki understands Thor’s need of affirmation, of something tangible that he can hold onto. “You aren’t dreaming,” he whispers, warm lips still touching. “Bad dream?”

Thor chuckles humorlessly and lets his head fall on Loki’s shoulder. “The worst.” He murmurs, surreptitiously counting their fingers, because Bruce had once said to him: “ _ If in doubt, count your fingers. In dreams you always have more than ten.” _

So Thor counts, time and time again, until he is sure they are ten, and then that Loki’s are also ten. He does it until the flicker of hope ignites in his heart. That perhaps-  _ perhaps  _ he has dreamt all these tragedies. That this is the only reality he has ever lived in.

“Hey,” Loki whispers, loving-sweet and caring into Thor’s ear. “Whatever might have happened- well, none of it is real. Don’t let it get to you and ruin your Big Day.” A little venom enters his tone, but Thor ignores it for now – whatever it is this time, he will have time to fix later.

Because, no matter his futile hopes, he knows. He can feel the phantom pain in the palm of his right hand, the burn and numbness caused from holding an Infinity Stone bare-handed, and, when he glances down again, momentarily, he can see a faint scar covering the expanse of his palm in the shape of countless pale spiderwebs that get tangled together until they form a barely distinguishable mash.

“Big day?” he asks, nearly absent of mind, making Loki scoff and swat him at the back of his head.

“You only want to hear me say it,” he accuses, but when Thor looks at him with big, pleading eyes he concedes and rolls his own. “Very well,” and in mock seriousness he says, “All maidens rejoice, for my mighty doofus of a brother is to be crowned the next King of Asgard!”

_When_ _reality still had a chance of being altered._

All the pain and all the death – none of it had been a dream. Only a reality that, in a strange twist of fate, he got to reverse and undo. A second chance; to have the opportunity to make Loki know that he is loved  _ and,  _ perhaps, together they will save the world from that lunatic’s wiles.

A second chance to stop Thanos from ripping the world apart.

Thor shakes his head and wraps his arms around Loki, abrupt and tight. He rolls them to the side so he can hover above Loki and look at him. Thor laughs, a sound that comes out unabashed and happy. Relieved, he kisses him. Once, twice. On his lips and his cheeks, his temples and the tip of his arrogant nose, making him grunt in complaint and laugh despite his perpetual grouchiness – and he is so lovely when he laughs.

Loki’s shiny greens glance in amusement and his lips part on a small smile. The sound of his laugh isn’t a terribly loud one, it’s small and low, almost a huff, but it’s enough. It’s the nicest sound in the universe and it is all the more endearing now that Thor knows how it is to live without it.

Thor pulls back, props himself on an elbow beside Loki’s head. Stops to take him in, watch him as Loki wipes his palm over his nose, complaining about Thor’s disgusting slobbering – Thor savours the moment, tucks it safe in his soul.

Their chests are snug together, hearts beating hard against their boned cages similar to fluttering birds, and he can feel the thump of Loki’s pattering against his own, as if it asks for entrance so it can come and snuggle beside Thor’s own.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Thor simply smiles and reaches out to touch reverent fingers on sharp cheekbones.

“For the way the light kisses on your skin,” he murmurs, meeting his beloved’s eyes, “’tis a sight to behold, brother mine.”

Loki clicks his tongue, buries his fingers in Thor’s hair, pulling gently on the tresses, guiding him in for a kiss. “You better put your mouth in other uses than talking. Your affectionate babbling makes my skin itch.”

“I prefer to make your skin tingle.” Thor murmurs and kisses Loki with everything he’s got and more.

In a little while they will have to get up and get dressed for the day and, in a few hours, Thor will have to go and wait in the antechamber of the Grand Hall and perhaps, this time also, Loki will come to tease him, try to ease nerves that Thor ultimately lacks of in this repetition of reality. Somehow, he will have to find a way to explain everything to Loki – he needs to have him by his side and he won’t let him feel abandoned or undeserving anymore, he will hold onto him, will not lose him again – and, somehow, he will have to assemble the Avengers and prepare them for the danger that is to come. 

Because, this time, Thor  _ will be  _ prepared, he  _ will _ be there and he  _ will _ do right. First by Loki and then by the world.

The Titan won’t have his win. This, Thor will make sure of.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Major character deaths for the first part.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this!! Kudos and comments make my day!🥰💕💕
> 
> (Also kudos to whoever got the Teen Wolf reference~ Thank you Stiles honey 💕)
> 
> I'm on twitter, [@TheAngryKimchi1](https://twitter.com/TheAngryKimchi1)


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